Defective
by Tipsy-Honeybee
Summary: Its been almost a year since he found the alien crawling around in his basement.
1. Things in the dark

I don't own Invader Zim. If I did it'd be ten times the gay and ten times not on Nickelodeon. It would have had a proper ending instead of fading into obscurity in the nether of cable television.

I exist in fan girl land. I will past all of the things that make the show so great but the fanfics so dumb. (What can I say I love em still…my fandom is strong)

This is some serious stuff right here don't you know?

I just like the idea of Zim being a grotesque spider. I think he proved that enough in the episode where he hid in the vents and stole organs. Pretty badass…

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Vincent wasn't a superstitious person. Growing up he was never subjected to the potential nightmares that lurked in the closet or under his bed. He didn't envision creatures waiting in hallway shadows. He never encountered spectral entities haunting the corners of his home.

Demons were a product of religious paranoia; likewise were the guardian angels sent to vanquish the lewd beasts. He seldom cared for stories of fairy folk or any of those other mischievous magical creatures that lived in the woods, mountains and lakes.

He didn't believe that humans had spiritual connections with the Earth. He didn't believe in any ritualistic practice. He didn't believe that a person's birth dictated their personality. He didn't believe there was life beyond the atmosphere living amongst the stars. He didn't believe in anything that he couldn't see with his own eyes that science couldn't prove its existence.

He was a very cynical child growing up. Where many of his peers spent their days immersed in their imaginations dreaming up pretend beings and problems; he was wondering about the mysteries of the world around him. Outlandish dreams never held sway for his interest as much as the wonders of the planet on which he lived.

The other children would run through the neighborhood chasing each other playing cops and robbers. Vincent would sit on the sidewalk and marvel at a line of ants marching across the warm concrete. Where were the ants going? Why were they moving in the first place? How did these miniscule insects know how to walk in such a perfect line? Why could they carry such heavy things while they walked?

These were the sorts of questions he asked about everything in life. Sometimes it drove his parents crazy. He was a child who asked more questions than he ever should have. He never took a simple answer either. You couldn't tell Vincent "Oh things are that way just because."

He had to know why. As he got older his parents encouraged him to use his natural curiosity to his advantage after they realized that he wasn't merely going through a phase. Vincent never had a normal childhood.

Normal boys went through the phases of boyhood- Potty training, the big boy bed, the fear of the dark, going to school for the first time, overcoming a bully, finding a good niche to fit into while they transformed from chubby little round shapes into their more gangly adolescent limbs. All of the things that seemed to be a rite of passage were never Vincent's to experience.

He was a loner for most of his childhood. It was because he was different from everybody else. He was never comfortable fitting in. His play activities were very solidary times. He received toys like microscope sets and light boxes. He loved catching bugs growing up. He also loved mounting them in display cases.

He was gifted with numbers so he was often scribbling down equations and solving them in his notebooks. He liked things like shapes. He always thought it was interesting looking at a picture of a cube and figuring out that there was more than just the sides he could look at.

He admired people like Einstein instead of idolizing any baseball star or wrestler. He plastered pictures of natural weather disasters on his walls because he thought storms were cool. He was labeled a nerd by his peers.

It was hard for him because he was picked on terribly growing up. It didn't help that his body remained relatively small for most of his childhood. He didn't have the strength to defend himself from those who hurt him.

He spent most of his youth wondering why he was different. His puberty was embarrassing to say the least. It was in Hi-Skool that he really developed. He shot up tall in Hi-Skool. His lot changed from being one of the shortest kids to one of the tallest in a surprising little amount of time.

He was still very much the nerd with his shaggy unkempt hair, thick glasses and pants that always kept falling off his ass because he was so skinny. The difference was that it became almost trendy to be that way. In a bizarre twist of fate the 'nerdy' kids gained a level of appreciation.

He started dating in Hi-Skool. Surprisingly enough he went through multiple girlfriends throughout his time spent there. It was hard keeping one for too long because he wasn't sure if he believed in love but that was another story entirely.

It was also in Hi-Skool that he discovered he wanted to do something with science as a full career. Science was the magic that always enticed him. It was the surreal wonder he missed out on his childhood. With science he could very well be a wizard except through actual legitimate means.

In science you could, for example, change the chemical properties of one solution and get several different yet equally amazing results based on what you did. That simple idea was incredible to Vincent. It meant that the world gave him tools that he could use to virtually change anything.

If he envisioned something he could research it and try out different ideas until he achieved his goals. It was so much better than whatever his peers thought they were going to do with their lives. He was given an opportunity to make a real difference.

It was sad reflecting on what brought him to this moment.

Vincent slowly loosened his tie. He studied his living room. The front door was still partially open. The light that poured into the otherwise dark room still didn't provide much to go on. He could see his unused coffee table. A fine layer of dust was settled on top of the wood. He stopped bothering to clean a long time ago.

Now as he stared at the uncared for piece of furniture he gaped at the abandoned drinking glass still sitting on top of the table. The contents of his drink long since stopped being a liquid. Whatever it was, probably tea or soda was now a brown calcified stain tarnishing the inside of the glass. The dust also made its way inside of the glass and now the brown smear was furry looking on top.

He pulled at his tie some more with his free hand. He didn't need to see the living room in its entirety to paint a surreal picture. The television was sitting on its stand collecting its own dust layer; the couch, its two end tables and the armchair rested unused close by.

It was as if he stepped into a dimension where time remained still. It was quiet enough that you felt like time stopped once you crossed the threshold. The proof that time kept moving was the fuzzy glass sitting on his table. The hardening contents of a sugary beverage was all the proof that he needed to confirm that time was still in motion.

He almost lost himself in the moment. If he tried hard enough he could have sworn that things were not as bad as they were. There was almost a sense of peace in those few seconds. The last ten years didn't happen with an emphasis on the more recent fleeting eight months.

The moment was shattered by a strange noise. He recognized the out of place sound immediately. A clicking filled the airwaves. If he never heard it before now he would have compared it to the dying chiggers of an insect. He studied enough damn bugs in his day to make such a comparison.

He sucked in a sharp breath. The sound was getting louder. The thing making the noise was becoming angrier. He knew why. He kicked the front door. It swung dramatically back on its hinges. The sunlight disappeared when the door shut in its frame. He was left standing in a pitch black room.

He sealed every window in the house a long time ago by means of garbage bags, duck-tape and thick black out curtains. He couldn't board up the windows because of the neighbors getting suspicious. He opted to seal the inside layer behind the blinds with a large spread of the black plastic which was held in place by an even thicker layer of tape.

Once the windows were sealed he bought all of the curtains to block out any remaining trickles of light that might want to enter. The idea was to sequester the inside of his home as much as possible. It was another part of the reason he felt like he walked into an alternate dimension.

It was a dark world to say the least. The angry clicking ebbed. Vincent released his breath that he didn't even realize he was holding. So much for the peace.

"I told you to keep the door shut."

A voice replaced the previous sound. The voice was raspy yet slightly robotic all at the same time. The metallic inflection of the words were disturbing. Every time he heard the voice it made the hairs on his arms go rigid.

"I'm sorry."

Vincent winced when he heard something scuttle across the ground. It was something big and serpent like in its movements. He would never get used to those noises as long as he lived; things crawling around in the darkness across his hardwood floors clicking and scratching. They were things that he never believed to be real before this nightmare began.

"It's not good enough. I told you to keep the door closed at all times. The light hurts my eyes."

Vincent didn't dare move. He couldn't see in the dark. He wasn't fast like the thing that he knew was watching him. Even if he could discern his surroundings he wouldn't stand a chance against the creature.

The thing was just as strong as it was fast. It would have been on him in seconds if it wanted to. It would take even less time to tear his windpipe right out of his neck in a variety of unpleasant ways. All he had in his defense were his words. He was not above begging at all.

"I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. I had a long day. The kids were being exceptionally terrible. Two fights broke out in two different periods. Now I have to grade a bunch of papers for the weekend. It's that time of the year where everybody is anxious for the summer to start already."

"Vincent why do I care?"

The man anxiously moved about on his feet just to have something to do in the stillness.

"I was just explaining why my head is kind of in the clouds. I was thinking about what I still have to do and I forgot to shut the door."

The room illuminated. Vincent's eyes took a second to adjust to the new light coming from the floor lamp that was turned on. The thing that was speaking to him hated the sunlight but was ok with average watt lamps for short periods of time.

When his eyes adjusted to the sensation of being able to see again he focused on the hunched over shape beating at one of the couch cushions. Vincent studied the grotesque shape in front of him. His analytical brain wouldn't let him stop. The figure before him changed so much from when he first saw it. The creature grew faster than his brain could properly process.

When he first met this thing it was maybe five foot on a good day. It was originally the size of a malnourished child. Now it stood well over seven feet. The thing still kept the qualities of a starving child except its body was stretched into almost comical proportions now.

Perhaps it might have been funny if it was under different circumstances. Maybe if the creature was an absurdly tall person perhaps Vincent would have been able to crack a joke. As it was the thing vaguely resembled a human. It had two eyes, two arms and two legs.

The rest of its features merely alluded to a tangible shape. The body that grew over two feet in the sparse months obviously wasn't ready for such a change. When the creature walked around on its legs it often wobbled like a newborn causing it to stumble into the walls more often than walk in a straightforward path. It preferred to crawl. It was much more stable lurking around on its hands and feet.

The elongation of not only the legs but its torso and arms stretched its already thin skin to the limits. The creature's flesh was sickeningly soft looking. It was pliable in the sense that it was forced to cover an awkward set of protruding bones.

The creature was so disgustingly thin that its stomach was convex and you could see the bumps of what looked like ribs underneath the frail chest. The same thing was happening with its concave neck were the collar bones were visible. It also had large wrist knobs and a slight bow in the knees.

There wasn't a hair over its flesh or on its head and if it wasn't for the angry welt marks and bruises from where the thing ran into the walls it would have been a perfect shade of pale green. The bruises weren't typical splotches of blue-black either. They were an angry red color that only faded to burgundy after a long time.

There was nothing on top of the creature's bald head save for the two long antennae that grew out of the upper part of its forehead. The antennae were long enough to completely stretch the span of the creature's scalp. They ended in fine points at the base of its neck.

The thing's eyes were two enormous solid red ovals. The eyes didn't have eyelids to protect the orbs. It did have the ability to coat them in a fluid like substance when it needed the extra protection however. The coating made the large ruby colored eyes shine in the right lighting.

Everything was off about the creature though. It didn't seem to be able to control the secretions well because it was constantly wiping the membrane away with its claws. There was no nose so its face was somewhat mushed in. It was flat save for the large mouth full of dingy brown teeth.

Vincent wasn't sure what the teeth were made of since he wasn't all that sure that the bones he associated the creature to have were actually comprised of any mineral on earth. He just knew that the now semi sharp protrusions were stained that color because the creature secreted even more foul liquids.

When the thing spit it was like it kept a mouth full of chewing tobacco. The brown fluid was even a bit greasy in its consistency. The reason why the teeth were sharper was because it purposefully filed them to be that way. Originally the teeth were flat and close together. Now they were further apart because it carved them into sharp points with a bit of ingenuity involving Vincent's tool kit.

Throughout the months Vincent wondered on whether or not the thing was a male or female or anything recognizable when it came to a sex. The frailty of its body and the lack of seeing male genitalia initially made him think it was a girl.

Now as time went on the thing's mannerisms mixed with its masculine voice convinced him that it was more male than female; although he was pretty sure it was actually a mixture of both. When he first saw it crawling around not wearing any clothing all he could tell beyond the absurdity of its existence was that there was a slit between the two skinny legs that extended from its pelvis to the supposed anus.

The thing turned out to be surprisingly modest. It demanded that Vincent buy clothing to cover its nudity. The rapidly growing body ensured that it outgrew everything too quickly to keep up buying appropriate covering. It now made its own clothing.

Vincent was impressed that the thing could sew. He ended up purchasing a bunch of workout spandex that the thing happily tore apart and reshaped for its purposes. It was currently in one of those skintight creations now.

He was disturbed by his level of familiarity with the creature because he knew it had a fondness for the color red. That was the color it chose to decorate itself with more than anything else. The thing he was observing moved to the other couch cushion.

It began to beat this one with its claws in another attempt to get the dust out. It didn't seem to care that Vincent was staring at it for the millionth time. Vincent was quietly observing the red oval hanging out in the middle of the frail back that was facing him. It was a backpack sized piece of technology he wished he could get the opportunity to study more up close.

The way that the thing normally protected its backside convinced him that the small machine was more important than he realized. Sometimes Vincent would catch the metal sack sending out visible currents of electricity that traveled up through the body into the creatures head.

He theorized that this was the hub where the important neural activity took place. He believed the pod itself was somehow the actual being. This thing was organic and part machine at the same time. It disturbed him to think that the fleshy body was just the host for the machine portion to be able to move around and interact with the environment.

There were too many nights that Vincent laid awake thinking about the origins of such a being. He tossed out many ideas. The creature, for a long time, would only talk to him minimally to get what it needed.

As it got stronger it alluded to its origins here and there. It claimed to have been made in a tube. Through his own thought process Vincent figured there were only two explanations for its creation-either it was a human at some point turned into this thing by experimentation or it was…

An alien

A visitor from beyond the stars.

Vincent was more confident in the latter idea. It shattered all of his carefully placed ideals. He didn't believe in the supernatural. He didn't believe in monsters. He didn't believe in things from fucking outer space.

The irony was not lost on him about his situation. If he was wrong about this then what else was he wrong about? It opened him to a world that he wasn't ready for. It was an unseen world he carefully stored away as fantasy in childhood.

Now the creatures were let loose. They were mucking around freely in his head. When he went to sleep he was always mindful of the shadows now. His eyes were open to what was prowling in them.

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The thing gave up on trying to clean the couch cushions. It forced Vincent to try instead. After five minutes of furiously beating away the dust they became tolerable to sit on. Vincent moved aside to let the much taller creature ebb down into a seated position.

Its awkward body took more time than necessary to get comfortable. Vincent seated himself in the recliner. He ignored the dust. He just wanted this conversation to be over. It was rare when the thing wanted to talk.

He didn't have a choice on when to end the conversation either. Everything was out of his control. He no longer had any free will. He was a slave to this thing. They both knew he didn't have an easy way out either.

The creature opened up the leather satchel Vincent kept his school papers in after demanding that he give it the bag. It sifted through each test carefully looking for who knew what. He didn't dare speak while it flipped through the stack in its claws.

Vincent never spoke directly unless he was spoken to first by the thing. It was one of the many rules he obeyed. They never carried a direct conversation about rules but Vincent followed a strict set he made for himself to help ensure his survival. The creature seemed pleased by his subjugation.

After a few minutes it tossed the stack in its grip on to the coffee table. Most of the tests didn't land on the table. They fell to the floor and scattered across the hairballs. The creature reopened the bag so it could grab another handful of tests.

"You work over at the Hi-Skool right? I'm not wrong in thinking this?"

Vincent nodded. "Yeah I do. I teach chemistry."

"So it's safe to assume that you might know a young teenage boy with the dumbest name of all time. They call him Dib."

How did the thing know about Dib? Dib was one of his favorite students. The boy was quiet and respectful. He always stayed out of trouble. He did his Skool work without complaint. Vincent knew just from his perfect test scores alone that he was far to gifted to be in a public Hi-Skool setting.

He even offered to put in a good word on several occasions for the boy if he decided to transfer to something that was in his level. He never understood why Dib seemed to purposefully hold himself back. It was as if he was embarrassed for his knowledge which broke Vincent's heart.

He saw a lot of himself in the teen when he was the kid's age. It was why he went out of his way to try to push the kid to better himself. Vincent fell into the trappings of teenage hood which led him ultimately down the wrong path. He didn't want to see the same thing happen to such a promising future.

For the first time since he met the creature he almost lied to it. The problem was that Dib was one of his students. The kid's test was sitting in that bag waiting to be graded. He was almost certain now that his test was what the thing was looking for. He didn't have to be a mind reader to connect the question with what the creature was doing.

"I know him."

The thing clicked approvingly. There were many different kinds of noises it made to express its spectrum of emotion. When it was angry its cries tended to be loud, consistent and annoying. When it was happy it almost purred; the utterances were much softer, much more pleasant. Well they were as pleasant as something that reminded Vincent of a chattering bug could be.

"He's a student of mine. He's a really great kid."

"I know he's wonderful. You'll never be able to understand just how special he really is. I wager that he's better than any human on this dirtball. In fact, you could say he might be the only one worth saving in your entire race."

"I…"

"I know it's so confusing for you. The brat and I have a history together."

What? How was that even possible? There was no way that a young teenage boy no older than sixteen had any connection with the monster that was living in his house. There was just no plausible way. This had to be a trick. It had to be a game.

The thing liked playing games with Vincent every once in a while. It liked to see him squirm. He stared into the things bright eyes. There was no way to tell if it was joking or not. The creature found what it was looking for.

The other unwanted tests along with the bag were tossed off to the side where they were promptly forgotten. It inspected the stapled packet carefully. The satisfied clicking rose in decibels. Its long antennae perked up on its head. Those damn extensions made Vincent think about all sorts of nasty creeping things.

"This is his handwriting. Ah I knew I could smell his scent in this bag. My good sense of smell only recently returned to me over the last couple of days. Everything before smelled like burnt plastic."

Vincent pondered briefly over how the creature could smell without a nose.

"Did you know that each human has their own unique smell?"

"Of course, pheromones are the reason for it. They give us signals about all sorts of things but mostly they help with our mating."

"Irkens don't have their own scent. We smell like metal because of being mostly machine. There was a time when perhaps we might have been like humans in this way but that's been long passed. There aren't many opportunities we get to express ourselves individually seeing as differences aren't celebrated in our race."

"So that's what you are? You're an…what did you call it…an Ir…ken?" The thing chuckled.

"Yes I'm an Irken. I'm what you humans call an alien though the term is very misinformed. I'm actually just another race from the incalculable numbers that inhabit the universe. You humans are far too cocky for your own good. You dirt crawlers can't even get passed your own moon yet you think you're the only intelligent things that exist. You want to know how I learned about this worthless planet? My leaders at the time told me about it after they purposefully chose a planet so far off that it wasn't even on our maps. That's how insignificant you are. Hardly anyone knows about this place and those that do don't even care. It's an afterthought of an afterthought."

"I see."

"Well aren't you observant! I know why they certified you to teach children now! You're so smart!"

Vincent ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth to keep it from getting him in trouble. He needed to get through this ordeal with all of his extremities kept in their proper place. The alien Irken monster raised Dib's test close to its face. It opened its mouth a little wider inhaling through the open cavity deeply. A low series of tiny mewls escaped from its lips.

"If there's one thing that I do like about humans I will admit to enjoying these odors. Humans play in the dirt all day and yet you all manage to smell so different. I really like the females in particular, they do smell pretty good."

There were a few seconds where the alien paused to breathe more of the student's left behind aroma.

"But you know what." The Irken continued.

"Dib still smells better. Now that all of my senses are returning to me proper I can pick up even more fascinating new smells about him that I couldn't before. Granted he's always been off since the moment I first met him."

"Why are you telling me this? You never talk to me about anything."

"Ah straight to the point. Fine I'll cut the crap. Vincent I have to tell you that I think our time spent together has been very special. Don't you think so?"

"I…"

"But as great as this all has been, I think our relationship is coming to an end."

"W…what?"

Shameless tears instantly sprang into the teacher's eyes. He instinctively tucked his body further into the chair to put more distance between himself and the thing sitting on his couch.

"It's nothing personal Vincent. I hate almost everyone and everything. I promise you that it's not that I have a special vendetta against your life. I really would like to keep you around, really I mean that. You've been a wonderful obedient pet. It's just that I can't rationalize a use for you in the future is all."

"You're living with me! I'm providing a roof over your head! I gave you protection from the cold winter when you were half the size you are now. You don't remember any of that? You don't remember me finding you crawling around in the basement trying to survive the elements? You can't kill me! Where would you go? If I don't go to work people will come here and find my body. They will come and sell the house. You'll be back out there on your own! Do you think that a being as large and terrifying as you won't eventually be spotted somewhere out there? They'll see you. People will hunt you down and kill you and if they don't you'll succumb to whatever weather or pestilence nature has waiting out there for you!"

"Aw Vincent you're breaking my heart, don't leak."

The alien discarded Dib's test. It began to rise out of its seated position. Vincent tried to get off of the chair but the thing was too quick. It descended on him. The man tried to scream. The creature wrapped both claws around his throat. Vincent struggled against the thing. Why was it so absurdly strong? The man only managed to pull both of them onto the ground where the much larger figure coiled around him.

It's vice grip around his airways began to take their toll on the Hi-Skool teacher. His struggling started to ebb away. The alien held on. It wriggled until it was back on top of him then wrapped both of its long legs around the man's own to keep them as still as possible. Vincent's arms fell away from the pale green ones that were assaulting him.

The alien hovering above was smiling. There were fine dribbles of brown sludge leaking out of the corners of its predatory smirk. It took a couple more minutes for Vincent to die. The man's body seized one last time then he collapsed permanently triggering the alien to let go.

The thing took a moment to appreciate its handiwork. Vincent's eyes were red from when his capillaries burst from the pressure. Those broken orbs were staring at it but no longer responding. The man's mouth was contorted in a scream that would never be heard. His head was swollen because of his crushed lymph nodes not being able to circulate his bodily fluids properly. There were two large black handprints on his throat where the alien's claws suffocated him. The neck itself was caved in from the force of the thing's grip.

It stuck its tongue out at the dead man.

"What a loser. Well I suppose I should get to work then. Busy weekend ahead of me. Need a knife…oh wait no a razor will make it easier…hmm maybe I was a bit hasty. Well it's too late now Zim he's kinda dead. No it'll work out. He would just be annoying going forward all leaking and feeling bad I don't need that."

The alien mumbled to itself for a very long time after murdering the teacher. It was prone to do that. Its addled brain often went somewhere far away; sometimes for long enough periods that when it came out of the stupor it was never sure how much time really passed during such events.

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And the plot…

It thickens…

Sorta…kinda…eh…

Waffles…


	2. Mr Pulmonic

For the record I wanted the title of this fanfic to be 'The Fault in Our Stars.' Yup just like that book turned into a movie about that dying lady.

Ahaha…tragic…

I dunno I've already taken one copyright thing and violated its material…I thought it would be in bad taste to go two for two…

What do you think? I personally think it's a brilliant title for this stupid thing…

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"So what about that one? Think you've been there?" Zim shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe…who knows I've been alive for so long now, it's hard to remember everywhere that I've traversed. Half of the time was spent, well, I didn't spend that time appreciating things like I should have."

"That's a shame. I can't even imagine what sort of crazy shit you've seen. I would love to fly out there and explore every single one of those little specks."

"There you go getting all sentimental on me. What did I tell you about that? Keep it to yourself brat lest you start leaking on me."

"Ok first off people don't 'leak' they cry which in way they do leak but that's such a messed up way of talking about it. We don't just cry for the sake of doing it. Well maybe some people do. No I won't give you the satisfaction by justifying your bigotry, and don't you start going off on some insane rant about how it's anything but that. It's all nonsense."

"Oh says the brat whose been alive in this life for only fifteen years? What do you know about anything?"

Dib paused so he could scratch at the fine line of hairs beginning to poke through his chin. There wasn't much there mind you. He just liked the feel of them and liked the thought of what it meant to have them in the first place.

"I know that there is life out there thriving amongst these beautiful stars. I met one of those beings who calls them home. You know he's a real asshole that guy. You think as the first legitimate being to contact this planet he'd try to represent those other inhabitants of the universe a little better. First impressions make all the difference."

"Cocky little dirt child."

"Mutant cricket."

Both presences smiled at their 'witty banter'. Of all the things they could talk about while staring up at the night sky this conversation had to be up there with the greats, whoever they were.

"Crickets are brown or black I thought. Shouldn't I be a grasshopper instead?"

"Nah you don't have the legs for it."

The olive toned alien turned his head towards the adolescent boy sitting next to him. He glared at the teenager trying to look as offended as possible.

"You little wretch. I could have skinned you for less on my home planet. I might not have technically been a high ranking official but beings that aren't Irken are still considered inferior to any of us no matter where we stand in the empire."

"I told you not to start going on like that you weird racist cricket looking asshole."

"I see now it all comes around full circle. Good one Dib. It might be the best slander you've come up with yet."

"Well at least you didn't call me brat. It's a start I suppose."

"Don't get comfortable. It was a slip of the tongue."

Dib smirked at the smaller green figure beside him. Zim was sitting cross legged resting his claws on his ankles. Dib wanted to tell him that for a being who was supposedly at least a couple hundred years old or better he looked younger now in this moment than ever before.

He didn't bring it up though because he knew mentioning something like that would get the alien seriously angry with him. Zim was touchy about all sorts of weird stuff that he still sometimes had trouble keeping in order.

The alien's cultural stigmas were harsh and that was saying something considering humans weren't exactly friendly to one another either. One thing that was considered taboo amongst his kind was the issue of height. Why it was an issue none could remember.

Apparently small Irkens were looked down on, pun not purposefully intended. According to Zim if Dib were of his kind he would have been worshipped. The boy was definitely going through a growth spurt. He was exactly six foot and two inches.

He knew his precise measurements because Zim wouldn't leave him be until he measured him proper. He wanted to laugh at the quirky little memory. When the alien learned of his height he made some kind of warble that the teen couldn't describe to this day.

Zim then promptly kicked him out of his living space and refused to speak to the boy for an entire week. It was only after Dib came knocking on the alien's front door forcefully bearing gifts of penance that the smaller being allowed him back into good graces.

Oh yeah and he was forced to take a gentleman's bow there was that too. Dib even air gestured to the imaginary top hat sitting on his head when he did it. He grabbed its invisible brim and tucked it into his side. It was all very formal.

He didn't mind the demand. He wasn't offended or anything like that. Dib didn't bother to bring up his observations then just like he didn't now. He noticed the way the alien's arms were shaking that day. He took note of how Zim gritted his teeth tightly while he waited for the placating response he desired.

In Zim's world his shorter stature was his people's representation of deformity. It was comparable to anyone on Earth suffering with a physical problem in which others openly stared sometimes even ridiculed. Zim needed the affirmation of respect.

He would never openly admit to desiring the human's adoration. The demand he made about Dib bowing was the best attempt he could muster when it came to addressing the deeper issue.

The teenager was happy to oblige if it gave his friend peace of mind. In truth, he did adore the green space man. It took a lot of years for his heart to come around. When it did it was so sudden that it almost scared him.

One day they were at each other's throats ready to strangle one another to see who expired first, the next, Dib found himself gingerly pressing his palms against Zim's three fingered claws just to get a better look at their differences. Zim even took off the gloves he normally wore so their skin could get acquainted.

"Why are you looking at me like _that_?"

Zim's ruby eyes darkened. It was the only visible way you could gauge his mood if you paid enough attention. He was good at masking his emotions when he put the effort into it.

When he stacked his poker face it was impossible to read him except for those two glossy orbs. If Zim was in a pleasant mood they were a brighter red. If he was not feeling as cordial they tended to darken; the more upset he got the darker they became.

When he was pushed over the edge like the whole being mad for a week fiasco his eyes were as dark as wine. Dib laughed. It originated deep in his belly.

It bubbled up to the surface where he couldn't help himself. He needed to let it all out. Zim's eyes went just a little bit darker. They'd come to a point in their relationship that he could appreciate the jokes aimed his way.

He didn't like the misplaced laughter though. He was about to say something mean to the stupid dirt crawler. He never got the words out. Dib closed what little gap separated their bodies. He went in for a very chaste kiss.

He landed right over the pout forming on the other's face. It was so fast the alien had just enough time to forget any anger he might have felt seconds before. His eyes fluttered a few times as he processed what exactly happened.

"You dirt children and your hormones. You have no self-control. Did you ever stop to think how that could have hurt me?"

"Oh be quiet I have chap-stick greased on my lips and it wasn't open mouthed. Whatever bothersome saliva you're scared of didn't come near you."

"I wasn't scared."

"I mean I'd want to if that were an option."

"What?"

"However there's this bothersome problem of your body dissolving when water touches you. I have just enough moisture to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you unless you really deserve to be punched in the head. I reserve that right as the sole defender of this planet."

"You're such a brat. Oh and if you were as smart and observant as you like to think you are you would have noticed some changes."

"Changes?"

"Yeah. My oral secretions are thickening and slowly changing colors. It's the best way I can describe it. I feel off since I'm not used to it. Overall though it's getting better. It's starting to be comfortable."

Now it was Dib's turn to be confused. His gorgeous amber colored eyes with the small interesting inner rings of gold widened.

"Huh what are you suggesting?"

"I…well…"

"Hey no you can't just bring something like that up and not follow through. You can't start a conversation with and I quote 'My oral secretions are thickening and slowly changing colors'. You can call it spit it doesn't have to sound like it's some kind of malformed snot bubble."

"Is that your scientific analysis?"

"Zim shut up, and what I mean by shut up is continue with your little explanation."

Zim sighed.

"I believe my body is adapting to its environment. I think I'm building immunities to what is toxic to me. Water isn't as potent as before. Oh it still hurts don't get me wrong. It feels like I'm being scalded as opposed to outright burning."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Zim!"

The alien clicked a few times from a place in the middle of his throat.

"I don't even want to hear those reproaching notes you're about to chirp at me."

"I think that when it comes to my…spit…really this is stupid…this part at least."

"Fascinating."

"Stop that. Stop mocking me. Oh fine if it'll cease your mouth from prattling on any more. It's starting to turn sort of light red in color and I've noticed a change in my sense of smell along with the odors I'm producing. What I'm making isn't very potent yet but my ability to detect different aromas has already increased tenfold. Like I can smell things on you, things about you that I wasn't able to before. Don't even ask what I mean. The best example I can offer you is that now I can definitely tell you're a boy. If I was blind I probably wouldn't have known if this change never happened or if I never heard your voice. You smell…good. You smell really good actually."

"Oh."

Dib's cheeks heated up. He hoped under the dim moonlight it wasn't to noticeable.

"As far as these odors I'm producing are concerned; I think in time you're limited range of smell will even be able to pick up on this. I believe that I'm starting to be like you humans in the sense that I'm emitting my own personal scent. So you know these pheromones you dirt people waft around all day? I think I have my own now. What's even more interesting, if you can call it that, is…I think I'm actually in the processes of making my own aphrodisiac. My mouth tingles a lot like I've been sloshing around mouthwash."

Dib's face went scarlet. His mouth promptly closed. He found a random patch of darkness fascinating all of the sudden. This time Zim managed to get a few entertained clicks against the teen's earlier laughing.

"You had to know and now you do. Come here brat. There's no going back now. You might as well put that mouth to better use."

Before Dib could pick up on the alien's intent Zim was already turning his body to face the boy better. He grabbed the right side of the Dib's face firmly yet gently enough to not cause harm.

He guided the teen's face back towards where he resided. In one surprisingly fluid motion the alien locked lips with the human. Zim's tongue was long and segmented. He used the dexterous muscle to forcefully explore the other open cavity.

The human allowed the molestation. He could feel what Zim was talking about. His entire mouth including his lips began to cool down. Everything sort of tingled like he was swirling mouthwash exactly like the alien spoke of earlier.

His head started swimming a bit. Everything was wonderful for a time. He thought that the moment lasted longer then what it actually did. The refreshing feeling remained. The taste went sour. At first he thought it was smoke that filled the space between their mouths.

It wasn't smoke. It was steam or at least the airborne remnants of Zim's tongue which was beginning to liquefy. Dib tried to pull away from the alien. He was getting hurt! Zim held him fast. He was getting a lot stronger these days.

Dib who normally could provide him a worthy match in hand to hand fighting noticed some time ago. It was getting harder to resist Zim. He wondered if there would come a day when he wouldn't be able to wriggle from the alien's intensifying grip anymore.

Zim groaned inside of the much younger teen's mouth. It was part pain and part ecstasy. Dib placed his hand over Zim's. Zim grabbed the other side of his face in retaliation locking Dib in place.

The teenager wasn't feeling any of the pain that he knew the alien was experiencing. The ooze sloshing freely in between both of their mouths was so cool to him now he might as well be sucking on a Popsicle.

He compared the mist puffing out from their mouths joining to the dry ice people used for parties to add a foggy affect to the room. They wallowed in their ether cloud under the moonlight for a long time. It was much longer than Dib anticipated.

Zim only broke the intimate moment after his tongue completely dissolved. The human's acidic saliva was beginning to take toll on the rest of his mouth. He pulled away from the human. Dib slowly opened his eyes.

There were ribbons of sticky fluids leaking out from both of their orifices. Zim kept his hold on the teen's right cheek. They remained inches apart while their breathing slowly evened. The alien was the one to smile first. His mouth was a gory sight.

His flat teeth were stained a beet purple color. A few of his teeth were still in the middle of rotting out of his mouth leaving a few open gaps in the otherwise perfect straight rows. Dib didn't realize his own mouth was just as tragic.

They were stained the same deep color as Zim. He was also having a problem with the remainder of Zim's tongue as it dribbled out of his lower lip which was swollen a bit.

He couldn't feel his lips. They were completely numb. He couldn't feel the slime dribbling down. He didn't know it was collecting into the fibers of his shirt.

"Damn."

Dib uttered the swear. It came out sounding like he just said 'am' without any 'd' sound in the pronunciation. He couldn't get his coated lips to work properly.

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Something was wrong with Mr. Pulmonic. Dib was sitting at his supposed new desk for the remainder of the school year up in first row wondering about the change. The trouble started the moment the man walked through the door.

The very first thing that the teenager noticed about his teacher was his clothing. Mr. Pulmonic always dressed like he was getting ready for a funeral. His color scale went from the occasional crispy white collar all the way to the blackest turtleneck.

When it was wintertime he doubled his efforts by wearing that heavy long wool coat the teenager remembered so vividly. Dib remembered the coat because it made the man look like some kind of middle aged Noir Detective.

Dib would catch him outside sometimes when he was leaving Skool. His teacher was the obvious pepper speckle amongst a sea of swirling white powder. A half crumpled cigarette was always jammed in between his lips.

He would take a long drag and an even longer time to release all of the languid rolling smoke. He always stared at the Hi-Skool building intensely. To Dib in those moments he was a detective who needed the cigarettes to occupy his time while his brain sorted through the various clues and leads of his current case.

Dib always thought he had the right kind of face for such a role as well. The man wasn't all that old in retrospect. The problem was that whatever worries he carried in his real life reflected on his countenance.

There were wrinkles in his forehead along with stress lines at the corners of his mouth which was probably caused by the constant grimace he kept plastered on his face. Dib felt sad whenever he stared to long into the man's dreary gray eyes.

The teenager liked the man despite his disheartening appearance. Mr. Pulmonic was nice. He seemed to care about his students. He tried to relate to them. Of course teenagers were repulsive sociopaths who didn't bother to appreciate the adults who tried to offer them respect. He taught in a public Hi-Skool no less.

He also taught midlevel Chemistry to a bunch of sophomores who were more occupied with getting their driver's licenses and trying to figure out how to coax each other into fooling around in said cars.

Dib's peers didn't respect the teacher like he deserved. The man who was leaning against his desk while holding his teachers version of the student's textbooks might as well have been a different person altogether.

Mr. Pulmonic was clothed almost completely from head to toe in red today. The vibrant color of his attire surprised everybody. He was wearing a perfectly starched button down. His shirt was not bright enough to be obnoxious but still close enough that it managed to bother your eyes anyway.

His dress slacks were pinstriped with alternating lines of two red hues. They were deeper shades that helped counteract the brightness of his shirt. The oxfords on his feet were the only items that weren't red. They were still black.

The next puzzling change in his aesthetics was the way he kept his hair. The man's disheveled locks normally tried to curl at the tips. He always kept them down around his face. They usually managed to get in one or both of his eyes throughout the course of the hour Dib got to spend with him every day.

It was slicked back now. This was the first time that Dib got to study the man's entire face perfectly. The teenager never realized how gaunt his cheeks were. His eyes were also different. They were still gray, however, they were more alert than he could remember them being.

What bothered the teenager most about his gaze was the way he kept catching those gray eyes looking at him. As soon as the students trundled in through the door Mr. Pulmonic raised eyebrows and caused heavy groaning when he told them that he was shuffling their seating around. He didn't offer a reason why.

Dib sat in the back row all year up until this point. He sat back there since Pulmonic was the kind of teacher who made a permanent seating chart every quarter based on where you liked to sit not where he wanted you to sit.

He was cool like that. Dib didn't enjoy being noticed so he generally ran for the back rows where he could avoid his fellow students. His Grade-Skool and Middle-Skool years haunted him. He was done sticking out.

His teacher seated the teenager exactly in the center of the first row. As soon as that was done he passed out the graded tests he did over the weekend, well kind of. He made Dib do it.

The boy went through the entire roster and realized that his wasn't in the collection. When the youth asked about it the man dug through his leather bag that he always kept close by filled with Skool papers.

"Oh Dib it seems like I lost your test. I'm sorry. Do you mind staying after class for a few minutes so we can talk about what we can do to correct this?"

Dib agreed. He didn't have much going on after Skool. It was warm out now and he liked to walk home when it was nice like this. When he got home he was planning on catching the marathon of his favorite television program Mysterious Mysteries. (a.n. sigh…these fuckin names man…remember this is serious stuff.)

He loved that show. He loved it enough that he was confident he already watched every single episode several different times. The marathon wasn't offering any new material so he could miss a few.

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The hour was taking its sweet time to pass. Mr. Pulmonic was filling up the time by having his students read different parts of the chapter they were on. So far he didn't call on Dib. Dib was pretty sure he skipped him on purpose.

The teenager looked around at the order they were lined up as Pulmonic was going down the rows pointing to his students in a pattern. The front kid of the first row was called then the person behind that child.

He called out for reading all the way down until the last took a turn then he'd start with the next line. Dib wasn't paying attention to the lesson. He didn't need to really. This kind of stuff was beneath him. He just liked the secure feeling of a boring routine.

It was why he kept going to public Hi-Skool in the first place. He was trying to squeeze out a few more uneventful years before his father pushed him into what Dib would assume could be called the family business.

He decided to doodle in his notebook instead. He had gotten really good at pretending to take notes. When Mr. Pulmonic skipped him the only reason he noticed was because of the glare he could feel aimed at the back of his head by the person sitting behind him.

Once Dib felt the eyes he finally glanced up then took a look around. Yeah, as he was counting now he wasn't mistaken Mr. Pulmonic skipped him alright.

"Dib is there something wrong?"

The teenager snapped his attention forward. Mr. Pulmonic's gray eyes were locked on him now. The boy didn't notice how close his teacher wandered towards his desk. He quickly attempted to cover his spiral notebook of doodles with his open textbook.

The man seemed taller than normal. It was a weird idea that passed through his mind as the teacher placed his hand directly on top of his own. Dib couldn't remember having to strain his neck this hard to look up at him even while sitting down.

"I uh…I, I'm ok."

Mr. Pulmonic pushed the boys hand away which exposed his latest creation. Dib fought to keep his face from turning pink. Everybody was looking at the interaction between them now. Conflict was a first since they all knew he was Pulmonic's favorite.

"What's this?"

"Nothing it's nothing."

"What is it supposed to be?"

Zim of course. Dib was drawing a picture of his missing friend. It wasn't a very good doodle it was just a crummy little image of the alien sitting on a rocket. Of course he couldn't explain that to his teacher.

"Oh it's just this space man I used to know. He came hurtling out of the sky one day and tried to kill me a couple of hundred times before he became my best friend."

He opted to say nothing instead. Mr. Pulmonic leaned in for a better look. The other students all eagerly awaited. What was going to happen next? Some thought the boy might be drawing pictures of their teacher. It didn't seem like they were favorable images going by his reaction to them.

"Cute. It's a tiny alien. He's even got antennae on top of his head. Where's his helmet though? If he's riding a rocket in space doesn't he need to breathe?"

"Well he's an alien maybe he doesn't have to."

Now he did it. There was no mistaking the rude loudness he put in his voice. For some reason the man asking about his picture really got to the boy. It was the fact that in a weird way he was indirectly talking about Zim. Dib was baffled at his own hasty anger over Zim being called tiny. Mr. Pulmonic might as well be calling him a freak.

"Well aren't we touchy today? You know I could write you up for this."

Dib's anger dissipated as quickly as it came. He was feeling loose now. Mr. Pulmonic's face leered over the teenagers head. If Dib weren't occupied turning into jelly he would have noticed the man's extra-long expulsions of breath.

"No I won't do that. This is a first offense. Maybe you've had a bad day. I'm taking this notebook for the remainder of the period though. You can have it back after class, we need to talk anyway remember?"

Mr. Pulmonic removed the notebook off of Dib's desk. Dib didn't protest in the slightest way, if anything he was looking a bit starry eyed.

"Ok well surprise! There's a secret pop quiz over what we just read. Clear your desks."

The moment couldn't have been killed more effectively. All of the students together groaned. They blamed Dib for their misfortune despite him not having anything to do with a surprise quiz whatsoever.

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The bell rang. Dib was mortified. The remainder of the period was dedicated to everyone individually reading the last part of the lesson quietly. Mr. Pulmonic sat at his desk and purposefully made a show to the boy about flipping through every last single page of the teen's notebook.

Nobody else seemed to notice this behavior. Dib was the only one privy to the show. His notebook was full of drawings with an embarrassing portion of them being dedicated to Zim. It took Dib's classmates a few minutes to file out the door.

Mr. Pulmonic overenthusiastically ushered them through. When the last student was gone belongings and all, he shut the door quickly. The man didn't move from his place or take his hand off the wood.

"Their horrible. I didn't know teenagers were _that bad_. Why do you lower yourself to their level Dib? You're better than them. You're taller than them. You're definitely smarter than them."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Mr. Pulmonic turned around. He smiled at the boy.

"Sorry. Come over here and I'll give you your notebook back."

The teacher ambled over to his desk. Dib got out of his and slowly went towards Mr. Pulmonic who was now leaning on the thing for support. The boy stopped before he got too close.

"You look pale. Are you going to throw up?"

"This shit is so damn hot."

"Mr. Pulmonic? Do you need me to go get help?"

The man was digging at his scalp right where the hairline began. He dug his own nails into his flesh.

"I missed you."

Dib started to go to the door instead of his teacher's desk.

"Where are you going?"

The man shrieked. He ran towards the boy. He was unbelievably fast. Dib's brain needed time to catch up to what he was seeing. The teacher placed his body in between the door and the boy.

"I thought they were really nice. Those drawings I mean. They were nice. Well…ok…you don't have any talent in that area unfortunately; they were pretty crappy overall."

"Who are you?"

Dib was not falling for this charade anymore. The man blocking his exit was not his teacher. This was some imposter posing as him.

"I like the drawings because of all the things you could be thinking about you think about me. I'm flattered."

No way.

There was no fucking way.

It couldn't be.

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*Cough hack sputter…*

Like a good neighbor State Farm is there…

That's the immediate thought that entered my head as I ended this for some reason.


End file.
